Tears of Red
by Spitfire123
Summary: Romano has another bad night and a fight with his Grandpa and his brother, and turns to the only way he can get it all out. T for cutting. Fail!summary and title, finished
1. Chapter 1

"There's never been a time that I wasn't there for you when you cried, right?" Romano heard Romulus' voice over the phone. He currently sat snuggling into his pillow, listening to his Grandpa talk."There hasn't been a time I haven't hugged you when you needed it, right?" It asked.

"R-Right." Romano shuddered, first tears escaping his eyes. His grandpa had never been there for him. He was always with Feliciano, who he had yelled at earlier in the day, and always left him at home. He always paraded him around like he was some award or prize.

Now, there were exceptions, like when Feli was with his boyfriend, or out with that 'Kiku' kid, exceptions where his younger brother left him with their delirious, old grandpa. The old man usually just sat on the couch watching some sort of cheesy soap opera, leaving Romano alone, completely ignoring the eldest grandchild. At this point, Romano's voice almost broke trying to reply to the mans multiple questions.

"Y-Yes, Grandpa. I-I'll go apologize to him." Romano swallowed down the rising bile, "Bye." He said, and hung up.

Instead of apologizing, he just sat there, staring at the wall. More tears escaped his eyes. He tried to fight the tears with the back of his hand, but there were more to come. Soon his face was covered in wet tracks and his eyes were red and puffy.

"It's harder then you think." A strangled laugh forced it's way from his mouth. "I wish I could tell you, but I can't... I can't tell you how it feels to be the odd one out, the one that everyone steps on, and teases. I wish I could tell you how it feels to be pushed around, to think of yourself lower than the rest. H-How it feels to be me and see everyone admire my brother and stare at him with such love, and then they look at me and think, 'Is that thing really related to him?' Oh, how I wish I could tell you, Grandpa. I wish I could tell someone, anyone. But the problem is, I can't tell you. I can't tell you anything. Because... Because I'm afraid you won't care." Romano wiped his eyes furiously, and hopped off the bed.

His footsteps resounded through the hallway, the hallway that lead to the only room in the house he could really trust, the room were everything stays and no secrets get out. The door opened, revealing a white porcelain sink and bathtub. He sighed and relaxed a bit at the sight. Walking through the bathroom, he tried desperately to remember where he had hid it this time. Rummaging through a pile of discarded clothes, he came across what he was looking for and flicked the Swiss army knife open to the sharpest blade.

With the knife held firmly in his grasp, he lowered the blade to his arm, and swiftly cut a small slit. He hissed, gripping the edges of the sink until his knuckles turned white. He watched the blood bubble from between the two crevices, and slip down into the sink. The first cut was always the hardest and the most painful.

Soon, a multitude of slits littered his arms, and the white porcelain sink was light pink. His mind was beginning to go fuzzy, and he felt something rise from the pit of his stomach.

He heaved up his dinner, and most of his lunch, quickly going from vomiting to dry, useless heaves. Silently, he closed the bloody blade, and slipped the metal casing inside his pocket.

His hand reached shakily towards the faucet, hissing lightly as his cuts were stretched. The water washed away the blood, and the happenings of the early afternoon. The sink was pure white again, and his cuts were only beginning to patch themselves up. Romano turned around, his deep cuts bleeding onto the carpet, drops littering the white fabric. He was losing to much blood by the minute and he could tell. Romano's mind went blank and he dropped, first to his knees, then his torso and head hit the tiled floor with a loud smack. His last conscious thought was 'good thing Grandpa isn't home.' The problem, though, was not the person not there.

_The problem was the person that was._

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><p><em>an: welcome to a day in my life. This was based off of an actual night, except for the cutting. I don't cut myself, but I do feel like my parents parade my little sisters around, and I'm always the odd one out of their perfect family, the one that ruins everything. And that really is how I feel.  
><em>


	2. Chapter 2 (end)

It was his little brother who had found him, blood seaping through the carpet. It was his brother who had to face the medics and police, and the family members, reassuring them it would only be a little bit longer until Romano awoke from his coma.

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><p>It was the bright light that awoke him from his slumber, the din of some unknown machine echoing in the background. His body trembled with inconstant tremors as if awakening itself as well. Something acidic was forcing it's way up his throat, but he could no longer taste. His tongue had been reduced to a dry, brittle state, and his ears slowly adjusted to the frantic buzzes of near-by onlookers.<p>

And it was his little brother who called in the doctors.

Soon enough, foreign hands were everywhere, probing, experimenting on his body, but it was no longer under his sovereignty. Instead, it jerked as every warm touch made contact with his ice-like skin. Hah, usually it was only his glare that stayed icy.

As Romano's eyes opened to the smallest extent, a gurgled mess forced its way from his mouth. In actuality, he was trying to call out for his fratello, desperate for his reassurances. He could no longer talk, for he had forgotten.

It felt like hours before he was finally left alone, coughing up a mess of stomach acid and salvia. But the pain overwhelming his body was nothing compared to his head. Romano felt something pressing from the inside of his skull, threatening to split it open if something immediate was not to be done.

After his bodying had purged itself of excessive, acidic liquids, Romano sat back, panting softly in the quiet room. Meeting the eyes of his brother, Romano flinched. There was no sympathy in the younger boys expression, only solid anger and frustration.

Why did he expect any different? Ashamed of his own actions and state, his eyes lowered to his fiddling hands.

The room's silence was broken by one question. And even when Feliciano's voice wavered slightly, Romano could not meet his eyes.

"Why did you do it?" It should've been simple enough to answer, just list one of the many reasons, but it will never be that simple. His emotions would get the better of him, and he would not have that, not in front of the object that caused him the most trouble, the most insecurities.

"Everyone was worried about you."

"We love you Romano.."

His fratello embraced him softly, tears staining the hospital gown.

Then his curiosity got the better of him.

"Feli.. How long have I.."

"A year, fratello.."

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><p><strong>AN:It was hard to right this but I pushed through my emotions and did. Honestly, I feel better.. I guess high school really does wonders to the ego..<strong>


End file.
